Wammy House Vacation
by Lani and Lulu
Summary: Question- What does Wammy House do when it's vacation time? Answer- Why, take them all to Disney World, of course!
1. The Airplane

**Lani: **Alas, I began this a while ago and so the writing is a smidge old-ish (read: not the bestest I can be). However, it's still cute and it's still an ongoing effort, so I ask you to please enjoy. Or try to. Either or.

**Disclaimer: **Death Note was never, is not, and shall never be mine (regrettably). But the goofy little OCs Bob, Mike, and Carlos are mine, which isn't saying a whole lot. Don't fear the word "OC;" they are merely here for humor purposes.

* * *

Question – What does the Wammy House do when it's vacation time, and the kids need a break?

Answer – Why, take them all to Disney World, of course!

Bob, a thin little guy who worked as a caretaker for the orphans, panted and wheezed as he stumbled for the airplane. Why . . . Why was this white fluff-ball so heavy?! Why couldn't he _walk_?!

The white little sheep asked, "Mr. Bob, why are you slowing down? We're almost there."

Bob gasped, "Yeah . . . Yeah . . . Almost . . . there . . ."

Matt briefly glanced up from his Game Boy. He, Mello, and Linda walked beside Bob. Matt observed before going back to his game, "You must be really out of shape. Near weighs practically nothin'."

Bob grumbled incoherent things against his young charges until they reached the loading dock. He and the kids shuffled onto the plane while a wiry hyperactive man named Mike carried their entire luggage behind them.

They picked out their seats in the aisle; their seating arrangements were somewhat satisfactory. Mello had made SURE that he was by Matt, and a window. So Mello was in a window seat with Matt right beside him, and across the aisle from them was Near in the aisle seat and Mike in the window seat. Bob and Linda sat by each other behind Mello and Matt.

Once everyone was settled, they all had to wait for the plane to take off.

And so they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Mello gnawed on his chocolate like a beaver gnaws a log. The annoying squeaky music to Matt's game was driving everyone up the wall. Linda started doodling little flowers and such on her arms with a black pen. Near played with the robot Mike fished out of his suitcase for him.

Now, the two adults were pretty calm. Bob was contentedly reading a Bass Fishing magazine. And Mike was listening to his CD player so loud that he couldn't even hear the kids asking for something if he even wanted to.

Finally, Mello snapped. He leaned over Matt (Matt just lifted his Game Boy and played over Mello's shoulder) and whined to Mike, "What's goin' on? What's takin' so long?"

When he received no reply, Mello crossly and loudly complained, "This SUUUUUUUUUCKSSSSSS . . . ."

Near tossed him a glare. "Please refrain from being so obnoxiously loud."

"WHAT'DJA SAY, YA STUPID FURBALL?!"

Near sighed. "You're not even worth arguing with. What an incompetent reply."

Seething in anger, Mello almost threw himself at him if it hadn't been for Matt, who held up his arm and kept him back.

Soon the plane took off.

It was a long, _long, __**long, **__**long,**__**LONG**_ plane trip. Occasionally, there'd be pockets of silence.

Occasionally, there'd be loud outbursts that'd rattle the whole plane, such as, "AAAAAGGGGHHH, MY EARS POPPED _AGAIN!_"

When it was time for the snack cart to go around, there was practically nothing left of the two adults supervising the children. Ragged, beaten, and plain tired of listening to Mello's mood swings and Matt's music and Near's sound effects as he made his super robot fly through the air, Mike and Bob were relieved for peanuts and soda.

Mello squeaked in surprise when he got his drink, "Look Matt, look! There're holes in the ice cubes!"

Then the children all had to take their straws and poke them through the holes.

They had fun.

That is . . . until . . .

"AAACCKK, I DROPPED AN ICE CUBE ON MY LAP!"

Mike and Bob flinched.

It felt like the whole plane was staring at them.

Bob hissed at the whimpering Mello, who was biting his lip and muttering, "Cold, cold, cold –" "What do you think you're doing?!"

Mello ground out, "Well, the ice cube kinda melted a little before I could pick it up, and the cold kinda surprised me and –"

"Okay, okay, I so don't wanna hear details!" Bob rubbed his temples, picking up his fishing magazine again.

Matt picked up an ice cube and quickly crammed it down Mello's shirt – just to see how he would react.

Mello shrieked and bounced around in his seat.

A blue pen sailed over the seat to hit him in the head. Linda snapped, "Stop being so loud, I swear!"

Near jerked on his little curl, trying his hardest to ignore them.

Matt cackled gleefully.

Mello tried to strangle him.

The snack cart lady stared.

* * *

Carlos was a twitchy, ADHD orphan. He was intelligent – that was why he was even in the Wammy House in the first place – but he was a bit of a kleptomaniac. He was fidgeting in a seat, surrounded by the masses of other intelligent orphans. Carlos didn't like being surrounded by the others; he always had the feeling that he barely made it into Wammy House, and that he was vastly inferior to everyone else.

He poked his freckles nervously. His eyes flicked to and fro. When the light signaling it was okay to get up flashed, he leapt to his feet and slunk down the aisles. Then, he spotted a blond strangling a red-head, a white haired boy with wide eyes, and a girl who was drawing on a sketch pad. Carlos's eyes were caught by a few robots on the suitcase at the feet of the white haired boy. His grin grew huge, his front teeth stuck out more than usual.

Carlos recognized the blond and the white haired boy to be L's successors.

Quickly, slyly, he dove for a robot, the one with a "T" on its head, and ran cackling towards the bathroom.

* * *

Near froze in horror. He cried, getting everyone's attention, "Mr. Bob, after that thief!"

Bob leapt to his feet and followed, only to have the bathroom's door slammed in his face. "HEY!" He knocked on the door. "I know you're not really using that! Come out here now!"

"CURING INTESTINAL DEFORMITIES, ONE PLASTIC ROBOT AT A TIME!"

"Tch, whatever, kid! That's the biggest fib I've ever heard! Well . . . Except for this once when my parents told me that babies were grown in my grandma's garden out back and –"

"Mr. Bob, cease digressing!"

Looking slightly SHEEPish at the white-haired boy's reprimand, Bob twisted the doorknob in vain.

A light, feminine tone said over the intercom, "All passengers need to be seated."

Bob cast antsy looks around him, and yet flinched under Near's hard glare. It was as if the fluffy was saying with his eyes, _If you don't get that robot back, I'll lock YOU in a bathroom . . . and feed Matt the key . . . ._

Bob gulped.

The voice announced again, "All passengers please sit down and fasten your seatbelts."

Bob shouted, "I'm getting there, I'm getting there!"

Carlos chuckled darkly from the other side of the bathroom door. "The belt to THIS SEAT is fastened . . ."

"GROSS-NASTY!" Mello squealed.

Finally, Bob pulled the knob so hard that it came off in his hands. In a daze, he gawked at it.

"Would all the passengers please get in a seat so there won't be any casualties?!"

Bob slunk to his seat and handed Near the knob as he sat down. "Don't worry," he mumbled, "at least he can't get away with your robot . . ."

Near gave one of his dark, slightly very creepy smiles. "Perfect. I'll get him, once it's alright to stand up again. Or should I say that _you'll _get him, Mr. Bob?"

Mr. Bob flopped against the back of his seat, exhaling loudly. He so needed a stress reliever . . . .

Or a better partner besides Mike, who paused his music just long enough to laugh at Bob's situation.

* * *

**Lani: **There you have it, the end of chapter one. Updates will try to come regularly, for I have a few more chapters already down and ready. Regardless, thank you for reading the first chapter!


	2. Carnivorous

**Lani:** This chapter's a bit late and, well, mostly conversation. And it's short. A right microorganism. But there wasn't a better way to break up the chapters, so . . . Meh. Enjoy anyway.

**Disclaimer: **I am not, nor do I have any resemblance/relation to, Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata, and Walt Disney. Thus I have nothing to my name but my weirdo OCs, and they don't exactly grant me bragging rights.

* * *

Bob was worn and haggard when the plane landed. After finally recovering Near's precious, precious robot (with the help of a crowbar and a buff flight attendant), Near was pacified, Carlos escaped, and Bob didn't get a chance to even interject a breath when his superiors were all over him for letting a child get trapped in an airplane's toilet.

_Well_. See if Robert Smith ever worked with orphans again.

Now it was even worse; the kids were so close to Disney World they could taste it. No, Mello practically **could** – he was inches away from foaming at the mouth at the thought of all the chocolates the child's heaven produced. Linda couldn't wait to sketch some of the characters, and Matt wanted Pluto to autograph his Game Boy.

But Near, Near wanted to track down the nearest gift shop and see what wares they offered. His creepy smile adorned his face at the thought of shelves upon shelves of toys towering over him, some of them containing treasures even Toys 'R Us hadn't laid eyes on. Yes, it was perfect; it was just as they planned.

Mike and Bob, on the other hand, finally agreed on something. They exchanged knowing glances and rolled their eyes. As they both lugged their charges' luggage to a waiting van, Mike grumbled, "Do you think we'll have to see a lot of the attractions? Can't we just stick with one of them? You know, instead of trekking up and down the whole dang park?"

Bob shook his head in defeat. "I wish it were so, Mike, I wish it were so."

Mike wouldn't let his idea go. As he drove the van down the road, in a procession of other similar vans carrying orphans, he said to Bob who rode shotgun, "I still say we dump the kids at a place where they'll be easily entertained." He whispered this conspiratorially, so that the excited kids in the backseats couldn't hear. "We could always go to the Animal Kingdom first; maybe they'll get eaten . . ."

"Mr. Mike," a cold voice cut in, "what are you _whispering _about up there?"

Gulping, Mike stuttered out with a crooked smile on his face, "Well, we were just saying . . ."

Bob saved him by lying smoothly, "We were talking about how we ought to be careful when visiting the Animal Kingdom part of Disney World. Who knows? Maybe . . ." for a moment he searched his memory of classic Disney movies that had animals in them. ". . . Maybe Rafiki will abduct one of you."

Silence.

Near asked finally, "You mean the character from Lion King?"

Bob nodded. "The very same."

Mello burst out laughing. He doubled over, his seat belt straining as he clutched his sides. "Wow!" he finally managed to cry. "I guess you'll have to watch out, Near; you're the weakest one." He leaned over and murmured to the fuzzball, "Because you know, baboons are carnivorous."

Near impassively replied, "Ha-ha, Mello. That was so funny I almost _laughed_."

Linda snorted. Matt chose to remain neutral and kept his eyes on his Gym Battle; after all, last time he had said anything, Mello had smacked him.

The caretakers chuckled; man they loved teasing kids.

* * *

**Lani: **What did I tell you? Microorganism. But I'll make the claim as all others do: next time will be better and will be posted quicker, so help me Rafiki!


	3. The Gas Station

**Lani: **I did _research_ this chapter. On what? Why, I Google searched _"directions to Disney World,"_ which is how you've got such a well-informed Near this chapter. (And if I'm wrong . . . well . . . pretend I'm right.) It was hard. But it had to be done.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note, Disney, or any major snack food companies and their products. Nonetheless, happy birthday to L, happy Halloween to all of you (if you observe it, that is), and thank you for reading and reviewing! On that Note (oh the puns!), on with the actual story.

* * *

Bob scratched his head as he poured over the map. He squinted and held it at a different angle – nah; all the squiggly lines still looked the same. "Um," he finally replied to Mike's confusion, "go west, towards Tampa."

Mike drummed his fingers on the wheel. "Which road west?"

Bob threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "Heck if I know."

"You've got the map."

"Yeah, for what it's worth. It might as well be in Swahili!"

A pale hand snaked over the headrest and snatched the map from Bob's hands. Undaunted by Bob's indignant "hey," Near read monotonously, "Take the I-4 West to the Walt Disney World exit."

Mike sighed, popped the keys back in the ignition, and pulled back on the highway again from the rest stop they had pulled off on to. Somehow, Mike and Bob had gotten split up from the group of other vans. Now, they were left to fend for themselves.

A few minutes into the ride, Mike said to break the silence (what was left of it, considering Matt's blaring video game music), "It pays to have genius kids in the back, eh, Bob?"

Bob grumbled incoherently under his breath. Something about "makes me feel stupid."

Mello stirred from his nap, raising his head from the pillow he'd made out of Mike's jacket. "I'm hungry," he whined between a yawn and a stretch.

Bob turned in his seat to give Mello a look of irritation. "We just left the rest stop, why didn't you say anything then?"

Mello sulked, jutting his lower lip out. "Sorry, _mother_."

A vein throbbed in Bob's forehead, but he held his tongue at Mike's look. Kids these days, no respect at all.

Pointing a black ink pen at something beyond her window, Linda said, "Hey, that looks like a gas station."

Mello cheered. "Gas stations got snacks! Sweet!" He twisted in his seat to shake Matt, who was slumped against his window, the left one. "Hey, Matt, ya hungry?"

Over the annoying music they heard a snore. Linda mused from her position in the seat behind the three boy orphans, "How could you both fall asleep? I'm not even tired."

Mello turned completely around to glare at the girl. She took up the whole back-back seat, her sketch pads and pens and pencils spread around her. He retorted, "How you doing back there, Lin_duh_?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Dandy, _blondie_."

Near said from his seat to the right of Mello, "Are you hungry or not?"

He whirled on him. "Are you threatening me, you sheep?!"

"Yes."

"I'LL SERVE YOU AS LAMB CHOPS TO RAFIKI!"

Mike sighed once again as he guided the van of squabbling orphans onto the exit. He pulled into the station's parking lot and parked near the front of the store. As he switched off the ignition, he plastered a fake smile on and seethed, "Why'd you put the loud one in the middle? You were **asking** for it."

Bob delicately massaged his temples as he mumbled back, "I dunno, but my head sure is paying the consequences. DANGIT, Mello, PIPE DOWN!"

At the first sharp reprimand from one of their keepers, Mello quieted, but not before rebelliously kicking the back of Bob's seat. Matt woke up at the yelling and quickly saved his game and clicked it off. For some odd reason, he noticed that they got even more annoyed when his game was on.

Mike unbuckled his seatbelt and lightly slipped out of the car. Before closing the door he said in a cheerier tone, "Okay, kids! Let's go on an adventure! I call it Operation Grub." At Bob's disturbed glance he explained sheepishly, "Well, just keeping with our Lion King theme . . . Rafiki . . . Timon and Pumbaa . . . Grub . . ."

"I get it, I get it," Bob dismissed, unbuckling his own seatbelt. Matt and Mello likewise piled out of the left side, leaving Near to gently hop out of the right, and Linda to clamber over the seats in front of her and then get out too.

Mike looked in approval upon his charges, nodding his head. "Alright, you kids ready?!"

At his partner's excitement, Bob became concerned.

Mike, a finger thrust in the air, charged into the gas station declaring, "Operation Grub – COMMENCE!" Only Matt followed suit with the same battle cry.

Bob shook his head, staring in open shock at the audacity and lack of dignity Mike had. Bob herded the remaining three together and went in slowly, murmuring as he kept his eyes on the now terrified cashier, "We don't know them, okay kids?"

Mello complained as he was shepherded towards the shelves of snacks, "But Matt's my best friend!"

"Not for now he isn't."

Shooting an angelic smile at the still startled lady, Bob plucked a bag from a shelf. "Hey, how does Chex Mix sound?"

Near twirled a white curl. He was hunched on the dusty floor. So dusty was it that Bob wrinkled his nose. But it couldn't be helped; the poor boy just couldn't stand very long. "No," Near said flatly. He pointed with his free hand to a row of boxes on the shelf opposite. "I want Oatmeal Pies."

Bob conceded by grabbing a box of that and tucking it along with the Chex Mix under his arm. "Okay, Linda? Mello?"

Linda shrugged. A look of boredom adorned her face as she stared blankly out the station's window. "I don't care. That Chex Mix is fine with me."

Bob nodded then paused. "Where's Mello?"

A squeak on the other small aisle of assorted packaged foods drew their attention. From there came Mello, bouncing over gripping a bag in his small, pale hands. "Chocolate!" he exclaimed. "I've missed it so much!"

Bob raised an eyebrow but didn't question the blond. He took the chocolate and also stowed it safely under his arm.

Matt then peeped into their aisle, holding two bottles of pop. "Mike and me covered drinks!" He gave a toothy grin.

Mello tugged Bob's sleeve. "See, we're done. Let's go so I can eat!"

Bob made a disgruntled face but headed towards the cash register anyway. Mike was already there, slouched against the counter, four other drinks resting on it. The cashier still had a mild expression of horror on her features, but she seemed to have overcome most of it. Bob dumped his load onto the counter, and scowled when Matt also added a bag of chips for himself. Once everything was rung up, Mike fished around in his pockets.

A look dawned on his face that Bob didn't like at all. He hissed beneath his breath, careful so that the kids couldn't hear, "Oh sh – . . . I left the money the orphanage gave us in the car!"

Bob rolled his eyes, fuming. For the sake of appearances (or what was left of them, thanks to Mike), Bob calmed himself down and pulled out his own wallet. He too didn't have much cash on him. He grimaced, but pulled out the Wammy Credit Card – he had no other choice. As if he were giving up his first-born child, Bob handed it to the lady.

Later, when they were all in the car and back on their way down the highway, and satisfied crunches were heard from the backseat, Mello finally piped up. "You know, that's really irresponsible of you, Bob."

Bob lifted his head from his slumped position, only his his elbow propped on the armrest holding him up. "Huh? What is?"

"Having to use a credit card just to buy junk food at a cheap gas station."

Bob frowned. How was that _his _fault? He shot a hot glare at the nervously grinning Mike. How could the kids not realize that the blame went to that idiot?! His eye twitching, Bob ground out through clenched teeth, "Were you hungry or not?"

"Well yeah, but it just seems like a waste."

"_What_ does?"

"Well, now the orphanage owes money. Now Wammy House is in _debt_. You gave them a debt, Robert Smith, a debt in Chex Mix and Oatmeal Pies!"

Bob didn't even question how the blond knew his full name. He just wanted a nap . . . He snapped, to get the kid off his back, "Well excuuuse me! It's not like it's something they can't PAY OFF!"

Mike saw in the rearview mirror that Mello was opening his mouth to say something else, so he cut him off by pointing out the windshield and exclaiming excitedly, "Hey, is that a giant inflated chicken?!"

That got all the kids' attention. "Oh my gosh, _where_?!?"

"Oh, oops." THAT sounded sincere. "My mistake, never mind."

"Ya JERK!" Mello squawked, vengefully stomping on the back of Mike's seat with both feet.

Flinching, Mike whimpered in response to each harsh kick, "Ow, ow, ow, ow –"

Bob took his time coming to his partner's rescue. He relished this moment; after all, it was the annoyingly hyperactive, _irresponsible_ Mike's fault. Finally, though, he relented, but only because Mike had gotten Mello off of the whole credit and debt thing. "Mello, that's enough. Really, act your age."

This sent Mello into a pout, hunched over with his arms crossed. The others didn't pay him too much attention (except for Matt, who patted his thin shoulder and said lazily as he played his video game, "It's s'okay, Mello."): Near was playing with his robots once more, and Linda was doing heaven-knows-what in the backseat.

Curious, Mike good-naturedly asked as he looked at the top of the only girl's head in his rearview mirror, "Whatcha up to, Linda?"

"I'm plotting everyone's downfall, and even giving illustrations to accompany the text."

Mike's laugh was very uneasy. "O-o-oh, ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha."

Mello griped, "My feet hurt."

"It's no small wonder," Near retorted before even Bob could inhale, "since you battered the back of Mr. Mike's seat into nonexistence."

"WHO ASKED YOU!?"

"No one, but your statement was general and therefore open for any to comment on."

"DON'T PULL LOGIC ON ME!"

Mike laughed. "I hope we reach Disney World soon."

Bob kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. "Yeah, yeah me too."

* * *

**Lani: **Ha-ha, sorry to disappoint you, my dear OCs, but you are on the Never-Ending Highway of No Return for at least another chapter! Poor suckers. Now for you real readers, I have an unrelated announcement: To commemorate L's birthday, I'll be posting a poem or a song today. ('Cause when I'm not writing crack, I'm writing angsty poetry!) There'll be at least a poem per day until November 5, which is . . . well . . . YOU KNOW . . . (cough, volume 7 of manga, episode 25, COUGH). Shameless advertising, ho-ho-ho!


	4. A Hitch on the Highway

**Lani: **I wanted this out before Christmas. Le sigh. Oh well, compensation comes in the form of new characters coming in this chapter! And no, they aren't OCs either. ;) We get to see what everyone else of Wammy House is up to . . . .

**Disclaimer:** Happy holidays and happy New Year! I hope everyone had a nice break. And though Lulu and I got a volume of the DN anime for Christmas, we didn't receive rights to anything Death Note related, so therefore still do not own it. Maybe next year, eh, Santa?

* * *

Happily chattering orphans shifted about, anxious to investigate the expansive grounds of the impressive park. Their caretakers, just as anxious to get through the chaotic roll call, attempted order and calmness. The occupants of Wammy House were answering roll call in the parking lot of Disney World, to make sure that all the vans made it before entering the theme park.

Standing off to the side of the crowd of children, L searched for three particular faces amongst the sea of kids. But the more he looked, the more frustrated he became. It shouldn't be hard to locate his successors; even among the children of Wammy House the three stuck out.

L jumped when arms slithered around him in an overexcited embrace. B cackled, "Nya-ha-ha-ha-ha!" at the detective's reaction. He bounced up and down in what they both knew was a vain try to burn the endless amount of energy B had. "Isn't L having fun? Why does L look so glum?"

Reclaiming his dignity, L pried B's arms off of him and answered patiently, "Well, I was just looking for Near, Mello, and Matt, but I don't see them . . ."

B cocked his head in puzzlement. "L doesn't know?"

That question coming from B was enough to make L's heart skip a beat. He stared bewilderedly at Beyond Birthday and demanded in a quiet rush, "What don't I know?"

Before B could respond, A approached and, adding to L's concern, she wore a worried look. When she stopped in front of them, L asked, "What is it, A?"

She shook her head as her eyes roved over the energetic crowd of children. "It seems everyone made it here, L, except –"

L sighed. "Don't tell me . . ."

A furrowed her brows and continued with a more apologetic tone, as if it were her fault some of the children were missing, "– except for Robert Smith, Mike McKean, and Mello, Near, Matt, and Linda."

_Lovely_. B, having less tact than L and A, voiced all of their thoughts, "Well, knowing those two morons Mike and Bob, they all could be in Georgia by now."

Before L could announce a code-red alert and run to Watari to demand a search helicopter, A soothingly put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Don't worry, I'm sure everything's okay." Her fearful expression betrayed her words. "They might be a little lost . . . or they could've lagged behind then ran into bad traffic."

"Or they ran into an alligator!" B was having too much fun with L's and A's worries.

A blinked and uncertainly went, "Uh . . . Well. Um."

"But I'm telling you," B grinned, "_Georgia_. B hopes that L-Spawn likes PEACHES!"

* * *

**Somewhere, Not in Georgia . . . .**

"I do not like peaches."

"I'm TIRED, are we there yet? And Near, what the heck are you talking about?"

"I do not know. I suddenly felt a strong distaste of peaches wash over me, that is all. But anyway . . . I agree with Mello; it really shouldn't take this long to reach our destination, Mr. Bob, Mr. Mike."

". . . My batteries are dying."

"My lead broke. Dangit."

Bob twitched as each new complaint was verbally heaped upon him.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so bored . . . ."

"Have you two gotten us lost despite the simplistic directions?"

"Have to save before they really do die . . ."

"Where'd that sharpener go?!"

Mike interjected, "Well, did you look beneath the seat, Linda?"

A pause. Then, "It's up front. By your foot, Mello."

"I'm tired and I ain't gonna bend down an' get it."

"You're pathetic." Near sighed.

"Why don't you reach down and get it then, eh, SHEEP?"

"Your nicknames are losing their luster, Mello. And their originality."

"You're such a jerk! Just shut up!"

"You're such a batrachomyomachist. Just close your mouth." Near learned that word from Matt, surprisingly. How did Matt know that? The world will never know.

Mike chortled at that one, exclaiming, "I love this kid! What language _was _that?!"

The mildly irritated retort was: "One obviously foreign to you, called 'intelligence.'" The trip seemed to be doing no favors for Near's waning tolerance of other human beings.

Bob stung at that comment. He was intelligent even if he couldn't throw up never-ending words like the fuzzball! "Hey," he snapped, "have some respect, okay?"

Matt observed, "It's war, and already sides have been made: Mike with Near, Bob with Mello."

Near and Bob chorused, "Don't group me with him!" even though the targets of their indignant unison were entirely different.

Amongst all the bickering, Linda's calm voice piped up, "You missed your exit."

Everything paused. Quiet.

Mike stared horrified into his rearview mirror. "You're freakin' kidding me." No, the back of the abnormally cheerful-seeming sign was freakin' not.

Thus the panic ensued.

"WHAT?"

Matt sighed dejectedly. "I now hate car trips."

Near yanked on his curl so hard they were all sure he was going to rip it right off his fuzzy little head. "This is madness," he muttered, peering out the window back at the shrinking sign as if to confirm the news for himself.

Mello repeated, "WHAT?"

Bob was in denial. He turned pleading eyes upon his partner and asked, "Surely there's some mistake."

Near snorted. "A mistake in his _brain_."

Linda shrugged. Quite frankly, she agreed.

Mike squirmed in discomfort. "Er – well, I'm sure there'll be a place to turn around soon, so everyone remain calm –"

"Really? On this long stretch of highway?" Mike no longer loved that kid. In fact, Near was grating Mike's patience into very, very fine bits.

That's all Bob needed to hear. Actually, Bob had had enough of this vacation, if it could be called that. His head dropped into his hands in despair. A grave silence quickly fell upon the van, only broken by Matt's ever-present Game Boy music and the soft scratch of Linda's pencils against her sketchpad.

Bob still had his eyes scrunched closed in an agonized grimace, so he didn't see it, but he took Mello's word for it when the boy shouted loud enough to make the van's interior shudder, "MIKE – THERE'S A KITTY!!!"

Then, before Bob could even remove his hands from his face, he felt the whole van heave to the right, followed by erratic bumping and a frightening tilt in the same right-ish direction. When the van lurched to a stop, Bob wasn't sure if he wanted to open his eyes. He did anyway, against his better judgment, only to see that they were halfway in a ditch.

Mike was silent for an entire minute before slamming his door open with a curse just loud enough for the children to hear. Odd enough, that. Bob shot a reprimanding glare that Mike didn't see.

From behind Bob, Mello was the first to chime in. Entirely expected. "Y'know, that was pretty cool. Mike dodged that poor stray cat perfectly!"

Linda seemed shaken up, but she smiled anyway. "Yes, I think the cat's fine." She and the three boys all strained to see the road behind them, and were satisfied that they didn't find any flattened small mammals lying there. Bob was happy too, because that meant he didn't have to launch into a reassuring explanation about the Great Litter Box in the Sky.

While Bob had nothing against felines, he fumed at that one's choice of a hangout during the time it took for Mike to check the car. Really, a highway? Daily facing the wheels of hundreds of vehicles? Sheesh.

Mike opened his door, though he seemed to have calmed down enough to exert more care and not rip it off its hinges. Bob was grateful. But then Mike gave a thoroughly annoyed, frustrated sigh that Bob didn't like in the slightest, and he slumped in his seat and turned the car on. Bob thought that was that, and that they were back on their way. That is, until the van only went a few shaky yards before sinking more to the right and making an odd hiss.

Mike rubbed his forehead with a scowl before cutting the engine. The kids watched without a word, having the same foreboding feeling as Bob. Still, Mike had the decency to let them all down gently: "We're screwed. I think we might have a flat tire."

. . . . "Okay," Mello grumbled, "it was all pretty cool until you said something."

Bob did not try to stop gravity as he fainted in horror at the prospect of a flat. Instead, he simply allowed his cranium to smack against the dashboard in the hope that somehow, magically, he could get amnesia and forget about this entire mess.

Everyone continued on without batting an eye at Bob and his problems. Mello cut his gaze to the side to eye Near hungrily. "Say, if we're stranded out here and doomed to starve, can I eat Near?"

Near narrowed his eyes up at him, an effect that was ultimately lost due to the sheer size of Near's peepers. "Nnnno," he finally got out decisively. "I am not lamb chops, no matter how much you call me that."

"No one's eating anybody . . ." Mike sighed.

"It was just a thought," Mello huffed.

". . . until I get first pickings, 'cause I'm an alpha male. Rules of nature, guys."

Linda followed Bob's example and thumped her head into the headrest in front of her. She groaned, "Have we all forgotten that there's a spare tire in the trunk . . .?"

* * *

**Lani:** There you have it, what should be the last chapter on the highway! Hopefully next time we'll finally make it to the main setting, Disney World, where L and the others wait not-so-patiently. Speaking of which, A's a girl here despite the BB book using the pronoun "he" because, well, Lulu and I just think of A as a girl. And batrachomyomachy is a real word; I only know it 'cause it was one of my Word of the Day emails from a dictionary site. It basically means a big fuss over little things, or a fight over nothing. And . . . I think that's it for my notes, so thank you for reading and sticking around to see the very late chapter four!


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